


Knee Socks

by psychopassblue



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Ned Vizinni
Genre: AU-they're in their twenties, But it's not directly referenced thus far, Jeremy is a struggling actor, M/M, Michael works in tech support, My First Work in This Fandom, They have no money, They're struggling, Work In Progress, but i've been neglecting this story for far too long, hi look, i'm updating this again, thank you for your continued support, there aren't many major changes, this is an updtaed version of what was previously here, this work has not been abandoned, to anyone who ahs read this before
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 08:32:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12229293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychopassblue/pseuds/psychopassblue
Summary: When the winter's in full swing and your dreams just aren't coming true, ain't it funny what you'll do?





	Knee Socks

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to preface this by stating that this is a work in progress, and not the full story. It was just taking a super long time to write and I'd like to see how people feel about this AU :)
> 
> I will be uploading the full story eventually, but for now please enjoy.
> 
>  
> 
> UPDATE: to everyone new, or everyone who's read this before, I just wanted to say IT ISN'T FINISHED BUT I AM STILL WRITING, THIS STORY HAS NOT BEEN ABANDONED so please, do share ur thoughts n don't be discouraged by the fact that this is a WIP
> 
> UPDATE 2: hi, I'm back. it's been far too long since I've posted anything so I really wanted to at least share an updated version of the story since my initial idea has changed somewhat since I began writing this. thanks for reading!!
> 
> UPDATE 3: I'm back duders, this is just another instalment of the story as I have it so far, and not the full thing. I don't have much more to say right now, but I do feel compelled to include a trigger warning for scenes of domestic and sexual abuse, proceed at your own discretion. i'd also like to note that I have not edited the first half of the story in quite a while, and so if anything comes across disjointed or inconsistent that will be why, please feel free to comment and please, please ask questions if anything is bothering you or if you wish to have something explained further. I am so invested in this AU, and honestly any excuse to discuss or develop it more is a blessing.

“They’ve cut us off again.” Jeremy sighed, his breath steamed up in front of his face. He turned from the unresponsive boiler to Michael. He looked desperate. They backed out into the narrow hallway of their apartment. Their dingy, _dirty_ little apartment. With peeling walls and chipped paint and broken window locks and a filthy, stained couch and, the newest addition to the family, _no fucking heat._ He was so fucking _useless_ and _worthless_ and- “ _Fuck_ , I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.” Michael’s hand found his cheek. Jeremy couldn’t meet his eyes. “We’ll get by, we always do-”

“We shouldn’t have to ‘get by’.” The cold seemed to seep between them. “’ _Getting by_ ’ means we _don’t eat_ and _maybe_ they turn the heat back on next _week._ I’m fucking _sick_ of ‘getting by’, and it’s all my fault that we even _have_ to.” He felt a dull ache as his fist collided with the wall. There was blood. “Look at me, Michael, I’m a fucking loser with a shitty apartment and a career that’s failing before it’s even stated. I’m a complete _fuckup_ , Michael, why can’t you _see_ that?” His breaths clouded the air between them. The space closed as Michael tucked Jeremy into the crook of his neck.

“Because you’re not. I get it, things’re shit, but you’re _trying_ , and I’ll always love you for that.” Jeremy said nothing and dislodged from his shoulder. “Everything’s gonna be okay. I promise.” He brought Jeremy’s burst knuckles to his mouth and kissed them. “I think you need some sleep.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” He clung to Michael’s hand as they walked towards the room at the end of the hall. Despite his obvious familiarity with the place, it felt nice to let Michael lead him.

The door to their bedroom was creaky, loose on its hinges, and came with an unreliable lock to tie it all together into one substandard package. The room behind the door was about as luxurious as the rest of the apartment. The far wall sported a large, unlockable window, half of which was boarded up due to a smashed glass panel they didn’t have the money to replace. The floorboards weren’t as squeaky as the hallway and multipurpose front room, but they were badly laid and splintering at the edges. A fluffy looking maroon rug encased in dusty plastic sat tucked into the corner by the window. They had bought that around six months ago, and planned to put it down once they got around to getting the floor fixed. Their bed was pushed into the corner opposite the window. It was an old double with a lumpy mattress, broken slats and stained sheets they’d found in the closet when they moved in.

It wasn’t anything special, or even _decent_ , but Jeremy smiled at the room in front of him. This was his home. His knees collided with the side of the mattress. He sat down, and reached for the cigarettes they kept by the bed.

“We’re running out.”

“Eh, I can get another pack tomorrow, but for _now,_ ” Michael held knocked one cigarette out of the pack. “Gotta light?” He smiled, taking his lighter out of his coat pocket and tossing it into Michael’s lap.

He stood up and tossed his coat over the metal bedframe, he sat back down, and shifted himself into the corner nearest the wall to lay down. He felt the mattress dip as Michael followed suit. He kept his eyes on the cracked ceiling.

“Here,” Michael said, his outstretched hand offering Jeremy the lit cigarette. Turning onto his side, he took the cigarette and brought it to his lips. Michael stared at him. “You’ve got an audition tomorrow, right?” Jeremy nodded and pressed the end of the cigarette to Michael’s mouth.

“I’m supposed to be getting a call back from the last one as well.” Michael’s hand came up to hold Jeremy’s, steadying the cigarette. His eyes closed. Jeremy stared. “So, here’s hoping, I guess.”

“I’m sure you’ve got it. You’re _insanely_ talented.” Michael’s hand pushed Jeremy’s back, an indication for him to take the cigarette back. He didn’t.

“Well aren’t _you_ a flirt.” He propped himself up on his left hand and leant across Michael to stub the cigarette out in the ashtray on the floor. Michael wrapped his arms around Jeremy’s midsection and buried his face into his chest, effectively trapping him. He couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, hello there, since when are _you_ so cuddly?” He dragged his right hand through Michael’s hair.

“I’m _huddling_ against the _cold,_ you dick.” Michael retorted, his voice muffled against Jeremy’s chest. Despite everything, he laughed. Jeremy rolled off Michael and curled in on himself, attempting to regain composure and failing. Michael stared, his eyes heavy. He reached out and touched Jeremy’s bare arm. His eyes narrowed, and he reached up to brush his thumb along Jeremy’s cheekbone.

“What’re you looking at?” He hugged his knees to his chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“Is… is one of your eyes _bigger_ than the other?”

“Oh, _fuck_ off,” He shoved Michael’s shoulder and covered his eyes with his hands.

“It _is_ though, seriously,” He reached out to pull Jeremy to his chest. “It’s… _quirky_. I like it.” Jeremy relented. He leant up to kiss Michael’s lips.

“Don’t push your luck.” Jeremy sighed and kissed him again, a little more deliberately than before. Michael wrapped his arms around Jeremy’s lower back. Jeremy broke away, mumbling “I love you” against Michael’s lips.

 

Cold air seeped through Jeremy’s jacket and cardigan. The florescent lighting was harsh and unforgiving, so he kept his head down, focusing on his emptying take-out coffee cup. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He took it out, unsurprised to see Michael’s contact illuminating the screen.

**Michael**

_You’ve got this ok??? Just try to be more chill and don’t get too stressed ok???? You’re a natural!! Just let them see how good you are!_

He stared down at his phone smiling. Michael had always had a knack for making him smile. He typed out a quick response, put his phone back into his pocket and knocked back the rest of his coffee. His eyes closed, but he was then shattered back to reality by a cold, feminine voice.

“Jeremiah Heere?” She sounded so utterly disinterested that Jeremy felt as though he ought to apologize for his presence and leave immediately.

“Uh, j-just ‘Jeremy’ is fine-”

“Save it,” She said, leaving Jeremy somewhat startled at her callousness. “You’re up.”

“Oh, I, um- okay.” He stood up from his chair and followed her through a set of creaky double doors. The hall he walked into was, in a word, spacious, with a stage at one end and an intimidating panel of three casting directors, one male, two female, sitting in front. Their desk was piled up with paperwork and resumes of disposable candidates, and they seemed every bit as tired and disinterested as the woman who had shown him in.

He took a step, the floor creaked. His breath hitched at the sound, but in an odd way it was comforting, _familiar_ even. Climbing the steps onto the stage, he braced himself, and looked up. Three pairs of expectant eyes stared at him, and his heart picked back up. The attention was deflected from Jeremy to a sheet of paper- which he assumed to be a list of actors attending these auditions- held by the man in front of him.

“Okay, Mr…” He frowned. “Jeremiah Heere?” He said it like a question, like he couldn’t believe that anyone would have such a stupid, awkward, _weir_ \- focus _._

“J-just ’Jeremy’ is fine.”

“Well, okay then Jeremy,” He laughed a little, seeming more comfortable with the nickname. “Which role’re you auditioning for and what’ve you prepared for us.”

“I, uh, I’m auditioning for the role of Ethan.” He felt his breath shortening and his face flush, he just hoped nobody else could see it. “A-and I’ve prepared the, um… the monologue from the end of act two.” _Breathe, breathe._

“Hey, are you alright?” A female voice. He looked up to see one of the women staring at him with a look in her eyes. “Did you want to… take your jacket off?” The only thing he knew was that he felt wildly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat.

“No.” He didn’t sound sure. “I’m fine.” She seemed disappointed.

“Well, if you’re sure.” She didn’t sound interested. “When you’re ready, Tom will give you your cue line.” She flipped through a copy of the script to a page near the end.

“Okay, let’s go.” She handed the script to the man next to her, immediately becoming unfocussed, not that Jeremy cared.

“ _But doesn’t it hurt, what they did to you? What he still does to you?_ ” He looked up at Jeremy with a smile and nodded, cueing him to continue.

“ _Not particularly. When you step into the world I live in, you learn to leave your dignity at the door; it’s only painful for as long as you keep it with you. It’s a simple case of supply and demand. The whole process is mechanical, and that’s all it will ever be to me. It’s been so long since I last kissed someone and meant it, or fucked someone and wanted it, so long that I fear the whole idea seems somehow… alien to me._ ” His hands were shaking. He looked out to the panel in front of him, analysing every detail of their expressions and gauging what he could from them. Tom was the first to speak.

“Vulnerable.” He said it like the word confused him. “An, um, _interesting_ choice. I’d always pictured this part done with a little more of a… dry humour, I guess.” Jeremy felt his face fall. It must have been obvious. “It was _good_ , don’t get me wrong, just… not what I was expecting.” He paused to scribble something down in his notebook. “Well, anyway, Jeremy,” He stressed his name. “We’ll be in touch.” His heart sank.

“Thank you for your time.”

The unnatural cold of the foyer breathed down his neck as he left the building. It was only around half five, but the early January skies had already darkened. His breath fogged up around his face as he thrust his hands deep into his pockets, his cold fingers clasping his phone which began to buzz upon contact. He pulled the device out to see an unknown number illuminating his home screen. He swiped to accept the call.

“Hello?”

“ _Is this… Jeremiah Heere?_ ” He cringed.

“Yeah, it is.” He was almost certainly coming across rude, but he was tired, so she could deal with it.

“ _Hi, Jeremiah, this is Kate from Redwood Theatre, I’m calling about the audition you did for us a few weeks ago?_ ” Well, that woke him up.

“Y-yes?” His hands started to shake again.

“ _I’m sorry, but you haven’t been shortlisted,_ ” She didn’t sound sorry, but he didn’t blame her. She likely didn’t get paid enough to care.

“Oh, thank you for letting me know.” He began walking in the direction of he and Michael’s apartment, ready to end the phone call as soon as possible. Jeremy was sure that there was some kind of prewritten sympathetic spiel and goodbye she was meant to be rattling off to him at this point, but she stayed silent and he couldn’t blame her. She called to tell him he hadn’t been cast, and she had done that. Why stick around for small talk? He took the phone from his ear and hung up, his home screen displaying more text notifications from Michael. He smiled.

**Michael**

_Hey!! How did it go??? You have to tell me EVERYTHING when you get home ok???_

_Also, I picked up another pack of cigarettes, just cuz we only had like??? 2 left??? So we should be good!!_

_And beer!! Like.. the cheap shit…. But it’ll still get us drunk so??? It’s good_

The promise of a cigarette and intoxication made Jeremy walk faster, the steam of his breath trailing behind him. Buildings and streetlights blurred together, but he paid no attention to them as he turned down a side street into the less ‘respectable’ part of the city. It definitely wasn’t their first choice of location, but the crime rate was low-ish and the apartments were cheap so fuck it, home sweet home.

His eyes locked on the dilapidated apartment complex at the end of the street, a real attraction for junkies and losers. The chipped black door came closer and closer until his fingers touched the handle. He didn’t remove his jacket, it was just as cold inside anyway. The old lobby matched the outside perfectly, with an unmanned desk and broken-down elevator. Jeremy approached the stairwell, his footsteps echoed off the concrete walls.

Third floor, apartment forty-two. He reached down to the handle and pushed the door open, revealing Michael, sat on the broken couch and holding a glass bottle at his mouth. Their ashtray was sat on the table and the faint smell of smoke permeated the air. He smiled. Because Michael had always had a knack for making him smile.

“Michael, I’m Heere,” He said, plopping down on the couch beside Michael, who looked like he had just lost twenty years of his life.

“You say that to me one more time and I’ll put my cigarette out _in your eye_.” He picked his cigarette up from the ashtray, and tucked himself against Jeremy’s side. “Here,” He murmured, pressing his open bottle into Jeremy’s hands. He leant his head onto Jeremy’s shoulder, exhaling a cloud of smoke. He chewed his lip. “Rich called today, said he was gonna be in town this weekend. Thought we could all go for a drink.”

“Is Brooke coming up too?” Jeremy took a mouthful from the bottle. His throat burned.

“Nah, she can’t make it.” He brought his cigarette back to his lips.

“Well that sucks.” He took another gulp from the bottle and pressed it back into Michael’s free hand. His head lolled over the back of the couch. “But still, _Rich_ , like fuck, what’s he even doing these days?” Michael held the bottle to his lips.

“Beats me, he didn’t say much, just that he missed us and stuff.” Jeremy snorted.

“I mean, who wouldn’t?”

“I dunno, man, you’re pretty fucking terrible.” Michael jabbed at his ribs with his elbow.

“Yeah, I’m shit aren’t I,” He said, and kissed the side of Michael’s face, pulling him back against his chest. Michael laughed a little at his efforts to pull him back. He leaned forwards to put out his cigarette and sit the bottle on the table. He sat back against Jeremy’s side. “So, when’re we seeing Rich?” Michael’s arm slid around his waist.

“Saturday night. I mean, he’s down for the whole weekend, but he said he’s got some stuff to take care of.”

“Huh.” He leaned back against Michael’s chest.

 

“C’mon, c’mon we’re gonna be _late_.” Jeremy looked up from his shoelaces to where Michael was standing, half-way through the open door.

“The bar is literally around the corner, we’re _fine_.” He said, standing from the couch and following Michael out into the hallway. He locked the door and turned. “I _know_ work’s been killing you, and you’re happy we’re going out, but it’s _only_ Rich.” Jeremy smiled, pulling on the ends of Michael’s scarf, their foreheads knock together. “Stop stressing, okay?”

“I’m _not_ stressed.”

“That’s exactly what someone who’s stressed would say.” Michael rolled his eyes. “C’mon, we’re gonna go out, and get drunk with an old friend. This is probably the _least_ stressful thing that’s happened in the last six months.” Silence. Jeremy sighed. He pulled Michael in and kissed him. “I just want you to have fun tonight, is that so much to ask?” Michael put his hands on Jeremy’s, an indication to let go of his scarf.

“I will.” Jeremy looked sceptical, Michael squeezed his hands. “I _really_ will, now let’s go, before Rich thinks we ditched him.”

Their footsteps echoed down the concrete stairwell, and through the foyer. They stopped at the door. Michael glanced at Jeremy, and Jeremy at Michael, exchanging a knowing look before venturing into the street. The sky was dark and the air steamed up with their breath. They felt their fingers going numb. Michael began walking, setting a brisk pace while Jeremy lingered by the glass panel door and watched him. They knew better than to walk together. Jeremy began walking. He kept his eyes on Michael walking a few feet ahead. He watched him turn a corner onto the main street. Jeremy rounded the same corner, to find Michael waiting for him. He smiled, and pulled a hand out of his pocket to link their arms.

“Anyone see us?” He said, Michael didn’t look at him.

“Nah.” Michael seemed calm, but tugged Jeremy closer to his side.

“Okay, good.” He relaxed and leaned his head on Michael’s shoulder. They kept walking towards a small, dimly lit corner building. The tarnished handle was cold beneath Jeremy’s fingers, but a wave of warm air rushed over them as the door opened.

“ _Michael_ , hey, over here,” The shout drew Michael away from his side. Jeremy stayed in the doorway. He looked over to where Michael and Rich were sat, talking and laughing. He thought about joining them, it would start to look weird if he didn’t. So he smiled, crossed the room and pulled a chair from an unoccupied table to slide in next to Michael. Rich stood from his seat. He ignored the handshake that Jeremy offered him, insisting on a hug, like old friends. He gave Rich an awkward pat on the back, launching into the standard _‘Aw, man, it’s been way too long’_ and _‘I know, we should really do this more often’_ before going back to his preferred state of silently hanging off Michael’s arm while he did the talking for both of them. Rich smirked.

“Life sure seems to be treating you two well, hm?” He tilted his glass towards them. “Fuck, three years and still going strong, lucky bastards.”

“This guy? Fucking hate him.” Michael leaned down and kissed the top of Jeremy’s head. Rich laughed, setting his glass back down on the table.

“How’s work?” Michael picked his glass back up and stared down into its contents.

“Shit.” Rich snorted.

“Fair enough.” He looked at Jeremy. “What about you? How’s the whole ‘acting thing’?” Jeremy tensed. Michael must’ve felt it.

“He’s fine, Rich.”

“I was asking Jeremy.”

“Well, _I_ said-”

“Are ya gonna let him speak for himself for once? Or has he finally gone mute-” A glass slammed into the table. Rich held his hands up. Michael opened his mouth, then shut it without speaking. His hand fished around in his jacket, pulling out an open pack of cigarettes. “ _Still_ smoking?”

“Fuck off.” Michael stood up, still holding Jeremy’s forearm. He took hold of Michael’s wrist, trying to gently prise his hand off. He didn’t let go.

“Michael, I’ll be fine.” Jeremy’s hand trembled on his wrist. “I _said_ , I’ll be fine.” Michael looked over at Rich. More a threat than a look. He let go, and left for the back door.

“He always like that?”

“He’s… protective.” He rubbed his arm where Michael had grabbed him.

“That gonna bruise?”

“Huh? Oh, no.” He didn’t sound sure. “No, I don’t think so.” He pressed his thumb into his forearm, a raw ache jolted through him. That was _definitely_ gonna bruise. But no one needed to know that. He held his arm and looked over to the back door.

“Can you be honest with me for a minute?” Jeremy looked back at Rich, who was staring into his glass. “What’s been going on with you two? And I want the truth this time.”

“It’s fine, Rich.”

“Clearly it isn’t.” He set his glass back down on the table.

“It’s nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me. Tell me what’s up.” Jeremy bit his tongue and looked down. “He doesn’t, like, _hit_ you, does he?”

“ _No_.” Well, that sounded like a lie. “No. He doesn’t.” Rich didn’t look convinced.

“Then what was all _that_ about?” He glanced down to where Jeremy sat, still holding his arm.

“It’s not his fault.” He sounded pathetic. He _was_ pathetic. “We’re just… _he’s_ just- we’re under a lot of pressure right now.”

“Like, how?” Rich leaned back in his chair. He still seemed concerned, just less so. Then something clicked. “Is this about work?”

“I told you work’s fine.”

“No, _he_ told me work’s fine.” He jabbed his thumb towards the back door. “I’m asking _you_ now.” Rich leaned back into the table, but there was something different about his posture. He tossed quick glance over his shoulder, towards the door Michael left through, then back to Jeremy. “I can help you, Jeremy.” Rich took another look at the bar behind him, and reached into his jacket. He pulled out a small, plastic zip-lock bag full of thin, white powder. Jeremy’s eyes bulged.

“What the fuck-” Rich kicked him under the table.

“Keep it down.” He tucked the bag back into his jacket. He leaned into the table, stealing glances around the place.

“ _What the fuck_?” His eyes darted up to the back door. Michael wasn’t coming. He looked back at Rich. “What _is_ that?”

“Don’t act so suspicious.” Rich smirked and pulled back in his seat. He held his hands up in surrender. “Don’t you trust me?” _Michael please come back._

“ _No_ , why the fuck _would_ I?” He waved his hand at Rich. “You show up out of the fucking blue, and wave a bag of fucking _cocaine_ or some shit in my face and tell me it’s gonna _help_ me? I’m allowed to not trust you, you _fuck_.”

“I’m _trying_ to help you.” Rich sat forwards, pulled the bag out of his jacket and tossed it at Jeremy. Jeremy recoiled as the bag landed in front of him. He stared at it, then back at Rich, then around the room. Nobody seemed to notice. Either that or nobody cared. “Do you want it, or not?” he reached for the bag, taking it onto his lap he popped open the seal. He stared at it, his brow furrowed.

“What is it?” He didn’t look up.

“Speed.” Jeremy’s hands went tense, like it had burned him. He resealed the bag and slid it across the table.

“A fucking _party_ drug?” Rich smirked, grasped the bag and leaned in.

“It is _so_ much more than that.” He slid it back towards him. “This shit, is gonna change your life.” Jeremy stared at it, but didn’t reach for it.

“What’s it do?” He narrowed his eyes at the bag, like it would answer his questions.

“It, like, _perks_ you up, y’know? Like, you’ve just got so much energy.” Jeremy looked up at him. It sounded so _unlike_ him. It sounded _good._ Except- he looked up from the bag.

“What if Michael finds out?” Rich laughed, he must’ve looked pathetic. “H-he’d hate it-”

“He won’t care.” That felt like a punch. “What? He won’t, you’re gonna be up and energised and, just, _ready_ for life, hell, if I was him, I’d want you to take _more_.” Jeremy looked up over Rich’s shoulder. The back door opened. Michael walked through it, tucking his- _their-_ pack of cigarettes back into his jacket. He looked back at Rich. “D’you want it or not?” Jeremy swallowed, looked at Michael, then the bag. He snatched it from the table, and dropped it into his coat pocket. Rich grinned. Clearly this was a victory. Michael approached the table. Rich leaned back and looked up at him. “Hey, buddy, you still on your period?” Michael ignored him, sitting back down beside Jeremy.

“Michael, are you okay?” Jeremy touched his shoulder. Michael said noting, but grabbed his bruised arm under the table. Jeremy winced, Michael looked down at his arm and pushed his sleeve up. The bruises weren’t dark, but they were visible. Red and purple, fresh and irritated.

“Fuck, was that _me_?” Michael grazed his thumb over the marks. “I’m sorry.” Rich snorted from across the table.

“Maybe don’t give him bruises in the first place.” Rich stared into his empty glass. Michael glared at him. “Then you don’t have to act like you care.” Michael squeezed his arm again. _Stop it._

“What is your problem?” He gripped it tighter. _Stop it stop it stop it stop-_

“What’s _your_ problem?” _Owowowowowstopitstopitstopit-_ Jeremy grabbed Michael’s wrist and pulled.

“ _Michael_ , please let go-” He dropped Jeremy’s arm. Rich leaned back, picking at his nails.

“Never figured you the type.” Michael glared at him. “But I’m not really surprised, either.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jeremy knew that tone. He grabbed at Michael’s arm.

“I _mean_ , you’ve always been, y’know.” Rich locked eyes with Jeremy and smirked. “ _Protective_.” He reached under the table and took Michael’s hand.

“Michael, I- I’m gonna go.” He stood up, inching his way away from the table. Michael grabbed his arm.

“Why, what’s wrong?” Michael wasn’t looking at him, he was giving Richa death stare.

“N-nothing, I’m just not feeling great, that’s all.” Michael pulled him back further.

“I’ll come with you-” Jeremy yanked his arm forwards.

“I’ll be _fine_ , let me go.” He stumbled, the weight on his arm gone. Jeremy turned back to the table. Rich was smiling at him, like he knew something. He did know something.

“Go on, we’ll be fine.” He turned back to Michael. “Won’t we, buddy?”

“Yeah, fine.” Jeremy’s eyes flitted between them. Rich smiled at their clear discomfort, and Michael had murder in his eyes. Jeremy edged closer to the door, the winter air breathing down his neck. He took hesitant steps backwards until his back hit the door. He pushed, cold wind engulfing him as he fell through the door and onto the street.

The air stung his eyes as he walked, the buildings around him becoming more dilapidated as home drew nearer. He kept his hands buried in his pockets, squeezing the bag like a lifeline. People ignored him, but it felt like everyone was watching. Like they all knew. His career was fucked, his relationship was fucked, he was fucked and they all _knew it_ \- the door slammed shut and he fell against it. His eyes flitted around the dark apartment, as he pulled himself away from the door.

He walked feeling somehow heavier. The bedroom door seemed like it was miles away as the bag in his pocket weighed him down. Jeremy grabbed the handle and pushed. The door didn’t move. He felt like he was floating. He slammed his shoulder into the wood, the door flew open and he fell inside. His knees and palms stung as he pushed himself up, half crawling towards the bed.

Jeremy collapsed onto the mattress, dragging himself to his side by the wall. The off-white ceiling stared down at him, laying useless and sore beneath it. He shifted onto his back, his wrist making itself known again. He lifted his arm up. They weren’t quite bruises yet, but irritated red lines were forming around his wrist. _Fuck._ Sitting up, he planted both hands on the wall and pushed. The bed shifted, a thinly veiled hole in the wall emerging behind the mattress. He smashed the heel of his hand against the damp plaster, which crumbled into a small cavity. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the zip-lock bag. _Well, this is a new low_. Jeremy squeezed the bag into the crater and pushed the mattress back in front of it.

He stood up and kicked off his shoes, his jacket and jeans soon followed. He threw himself onto the bed, and stared at the slight cracks which could be seen above the mattress. He reached out and traced them with his fingertips. They weren’t noticeable, but their visibility drove him mad. He screwed his eyes shut and turned over. He heard the door unlatch, then close, followed by approaching footsteps. He shut his eyes tighter and slowed his breathing to a crawl.

“I know you’re not sleeping.” _Fuckfuckfuckfuck-_ the bed dipped as Michael sat down behind him. he grabbed Jeremy’s shoulder and shoved him onto his back. “Care to explain what the _fuck_ just happened?” He looked away.

“I-ah, I felt s-sick, so-”

“No you didn’t.” He dug his nails into Jeremy’s shoulder. He squirmed, his hand winding around Michael’s wrist for the second time that night.

“Y-you’re hurting me-”

“You’ve been acting antsy since I got back to the table.” Jeremy gave up on prying Michael’s hand off, opting instead to push at his shoulders, though it had little to no effect. “And I wanna know why.” He delivered a sharp smack to the side of Michael’s head. He recoiled and held his cheek, while Jeremy pulled himself up from the bed. He clutched his shoulder. Two bruises in one hour, must be a new record.

“Did you ever think that I get antsy ‘cus you do shit like _this_?” He cursed as his fingers dug into tender skin. “Jesus, _fuck_ , what did you even do just then?” Michael turned back to him, rubbing the side of his face.

“Rich was being an asshole, _forgive_ me for not wanting to leave you with him-” Jeremy slapped him again.

“Don’t you _dare_ -” Slap. “Don’t you fucking _dare_ act like you did this for me.” Michael hissed, touching the red mark on his face. Jeremy recoiled, guilt settling into his stomach.

“Why _else_ would I do it?” His hand trembled. The stinging on his palm became more apparent. “I fucking _care_ about you, why can’t you see that?” His eyes stung, so he looked down. _Not now not now anytime but now._

“I’m sorry.” His mouth was dry, and his tongue felt like sandpaper. Jeremy reached out and touched his cheek. Michael winced, and his stomach dropped. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve h-hit you.” Was he crying? He was probably crying. Everything felt numb. _You’re such a spineless fuckup._ He fell forwards into Michael’s shoulder, spluttering and blubbering out apologies. _Weak, disgusting, pitiful, worthless-_ he felt an arm around his shoulders.

“Look, it’s okay.” _No it isn’t._ “You didn’t mean it.” _Yes I did._ Michael kissed his temple. “Things’re just getting to you, aren’t they?” His tone was low and condescending, but Jeremy found himself nodding regardless. It was easier than fighting.

“Yeah.” His eyes closed. “That’s it.” Jeremy’s mind buzzed blank. He yawned and sank into Michael’s shoulder. He wasn’t tired. He was drained. He felt the sheets rising up to meet his back, and his vison blurred. He felt lips against his neck, cold, wet and unwelcome.

“Y’know, I’m not working ‘til late tomorrow.” He felt his shirt being drawn slowly upwards, and hid underwear being nudged downwards. “If you wanted to… work some stuff out?” Nails grazed the skin stretched over his hipbones and the teeth and tongue on his neck felt as comforting as spiders’ legs. He cringed, pushing at Michael with his elbow and right hand.

“Hey, get off, I just wanna- _ah_ , go to sleep.” Michael hand wandered lower, trailing the elasticated waistband further down Jeremy’s thigh. “I _said_ get off, I don’t wanna do this-”

“You _never_ wanna do this.” Michael didn’t move his hand, rubbing slow circles into Jeremy’s inner thigh. “Just this once, c’mon, do it for me.” He pressed his elbow harder into the centre of Michael’s chest.

“ _No_ , I _said_ no, now get _off_ -” The protests died on his tongue as Michael grabbed him roughly between the legs. His eyes streamed, and his mouth hung open. Jeremy felt like he was burning, every stroke, every kiss ripped his skin from his muscles. _Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop_ \- his throat felt constricted. He was starting to black out. Panicked, he shifted the trajectory of his elbow, so it collided with Michael’s nose. Jeremy heard a dull crack, followed by a slew of curses and insults. Michael rolled off the bed, cradling the centre of his face.

 

“He’s never _done_ anything like that before, y’know.” Jeremy dropped the cigarette back between his lips, and pressed the phone closer to his ear. “I didn’t think he was even- even _capable_ of doin’ that to me.”

“ _I think he’s capable of a lot more than you wanna think, Miah._ ” Christine seemed exasperated. “ _Y’know my offer’s always there, you can come stay with me if you want out._ ”

“You _know_ why I can’t do that.” He pinched the end of his cigarette and exhaled.

“ _Do I?_ ”

“Yes, you do, look my life was chaotic as _shit_ before this-”

“ _Yeah, because it’s so much better now?_ ” Jeremy groaned and pulled his hair. “ _I’m sorry, I just don’t wanna see you get hurt._ ”

“He doesn’t hurt me.” He stuck the cigarette back in his mouth.

“ _So, groping you when you said no was what, foreplay?_ ” He rubbed his temple. The spot where Michael had kissed him seemed tender, and sore. “ _You can’t downplay stuff, especially not to me._ ”

“I’m _not_ downplaying it.” Jeremy could hear Christine’s scepticism through the phone. He leant forwards and stubbed out the cigarette on the coffee table. “It’s my fault.”

“ _How so?_ ” He fell back onto the couch, and brought his knees to his chest.

“Because I literally _never_ wanna have sex.” He bit his lip and swallowed. “A-and that’s not-not normal.”

“ _Did he tell you that?_ ” Jeremy felt his lips tremble, he looked down and tried to focus on pulling loose threads from the couch. “ _So, he did tell you that._ ”

“Well, so what if he did?” He was grasping at straws, and Christine knew it. Jeremy glanced at the clock, and bit his thumb nail. Four thirty, Michael was gonna be home soon. “Look, you _know_ I’d call you the _second_ I felt unsafe, right?” _Any minute, any minute_.

“ _And you feel safe right now?_ ” He bit his lip. The dry skin split under his teeth.

“Can we _please_ not talk about this now?”

“ _If not now, when?_ ” Four thirty-one. Not now, anytime but now. Jeremy licked the cut in his lip, trying and failing to formulate a response. He took the phone from his ear and hung up. He jerked as the door opened, and Michael walked in.

“H-hi, uh, you’re home early.” No he wasn’t, why did he say that. Michael didn’t look at him, shrugging off his coat and making for the bedroom. Jeremy stayed where he was. “How was work?” Silence. “You said thing’s’d been stressful lately?” Nothing. He sighed, walking after Michael and lingering in the doorway. “How’s your nose, I didn’t break it did I?” He could only see Michael’s back. “Michael I- please just _say_ something-”

“Like _what_ , what d’you _want_ me to say?” Jeremy flinched.

“Ah- I’m _sorry_ -”

“You’re _not_ sorry, you keep doing shit like this, if you were sorry you would _stop_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to apologize if the current ending seems rushed or sudden, I was considering cutting it off a little before, so that it would read better, but then thought fuck it and posted everything that I had, I hope it was enjoyable nonetheless. 
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read through this extract [still an extract in case anyone is confused by the update]. Please tell me what you thought in the comments, I always love to hear feedback!!


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